


Eleven

by rabid_plotbunny



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Oviposition, crack!fic, fluff/angst, sort-of-mpreg-but-not-quite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 03:30:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20185540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabid_plotbunny/pseuds/rabid_plotbunny
Summary: It was a well-known fact in SOLDIER that unless world-ending catastrophe was imminent, you didnotdisturb Sephiroth in the morning.





	Eleven

It was a well-known fact in SOLDIER that unless world-ending catastrophe was imminent, you did _not_ disturb Sephiroth in the morning.

The man's basic schedule was easy enough to predict, fond of routine and order as he was, and gave those who bothered to learn it some safety against the unpredictability of the 'danger' times.

His secretary would arrive promptly at eight to find him already in his office looking fresh as always, even though he'd still been there when she'd clocked out the day before. Starting at nine, his mood would slowly worsen, his temper getting fouler and fouler until he stormed out of the office around eleven. Precisely one hour later he was back, good mood restored, and unless he had some unpleasant meeting scheduled for that afternoon it would last until he left.

His secretary had taken to scheduling as many of _those_ meetings as she could for the mornings between nine and eleven. At least that way she wouldn't have to walk on eggshells _all_ day.

***

Zack watched Sephiroth pace restlessly as the interior elevator slowly dinged its way down. He'd never seen the normally-controlled man so frazzled.

It had started that morning. President Shinra's secretary had called and informed him that the ten o'clock board meeting was delayed by a half-hour, and none of his protests earned him more than an indifferent 'So clear your schedule!' from the egotistical blond.

The pale General's agitation only increased as the meeting proved itself to be yet another pointless grab for funds by the various department heads, no different than any other such meeting he'd had to attend. A waste of his time.

Eleven o'clock came and went, the General's increased fidgeting and agitation going unnoticed by all save Zack, who discreetly edged his seat a little further from the volatile man.

By the time noon arrived, most of the people sitting within a few seats of the man were casting him curious looks; his displeasure plainly on display, accompanied by an uncharacteristic squirming, finger- and toe-tapping.

Then Palmer stood to begin _his_ presentation, and that was it.

Sephiroth stood abruptly, gathered his papers, then made for the doors.

“Where do you think _you're_ going?” came Shinra's grating voice. “I told you to clear your schedule! _Sit. Down!_”

Sephiroth paused just in front of the doors, tossed a blue-green glare over one shoulder at the rotund blond. “This meeting is pointless. I actually have things to do, so stop wasting my time. If there's anything I _need_ to know, send me a memo.” He looked to Zack, still sitting at the table, violet eyes wide. “Zack. Come.”

With a half-apologetic look and insincere shrug to the President, Zack gathered his own notes – mostly doodles of the others meeting particularly nasty ends – and followed Sephiroth out.

So now they were in the elevator headed back down and Sephiroth was plainly agitated.

“Hey, Seph?” Zack ventured cautiously. “You all right?”

The silver-haired General had barely opened his mouth to reply when the building shook with a resounding blast and the elevator came to a bone-jarring halt, the lights dying as abruptly as the descent. For a few long moments they were shrouded in pitch black, then the emergency lighting system kicked in, filling the small space with dim red light.

“What the hell was that?!” Zack asked as he picked himself up from where he'd ended up sprawled on the floor. He reached out, pressing a few buttons on the darkened pad – nothing. “Looks like we're stuck for a while,” he said. “What do you think's going- Seph?! Seph, are you all right?!”

Sephiroth half-knelt, half-lay on the floor where he had fallen. His face was even paler than usual, little beads of sweat forming on his brow, and one arm was pressed firmly against his midsection. He made a brief effort to get to his feet, but then settled for simply sitting down, back to the wall, knees drawn up, _both_ arms wrapped around his middle. “I'm... fine,” he managed at last.

Zack was at his side before the words fully escaped, looking him over in concern. “No, you're not,” he argued. Taking off his gloves, he pressed one palm to the sweaty forehead, the other to his own. “Well, there's not _much_ of a fever, so that's a good sign.”

“I'm _fine_,” Sephiroth insisted, unconvincing as his failed attempt to straighten. “It's just been longer than I usually prefer, that's all.”

Confusion joined the concern. “What's been longer? Does this happen often? Tell me what I can do to help.”

“Nothing,” the General replied. “And you should know! It happens every day!”

Zack puzzled it over for a long moment. “...You need to go to the bathroom?” he guessed at last.

Sephiroth glared. “No.”

“Aww, come on! Help me out, here!”

Granting Zack the best 'You're an idiot' look he could manage under the circumstances, he decided to spell it out for him. “It happens every day at the same time. They're big and blue-green, and there's about a dozen of them.”

“...You've lost me.”

An irritated growl. “Are you really _that_ ignorant of your own biological functions?”

“...So you really _do_ need to go to the bathroom...?” he asked timidly. A small pause. “And I can say for sure that _nothing_ blue-green ever comes out of _me!_”

Sephiroth frowned, irritation getting washed away by confusion. “Nothing? Ever?”

“Nope,” Zack confirmed. Now it was _his_ turn to frown. “What the _heck_ comes out of _you?_”

“Perhaps you should see a doctor,” Sephiroth mused. “I started in my early teens, so you should have started by _now_...”

“Started _what?_ Seph? Come on! What did you start? What's blue-green?”

“My eggs,” Sephiroth said simply.

Zack stared. “Your... _what?_”

“My eggs,” the silver-haired man repeated. “I have them every day just after eleven.”

“...You go home and eat eggs...?”

An exasperated sigh. “Zack, please pay attention. I _have_ them, about a dozen at a time. Didn't they teach you about this in class?”

“They never said anything about SOLDIERs laying eggs!”

Another frown. “Really? But surely you would have noticed, then, and asked...”

“Seph. I have _never_. Laid an egg. In my _life. Ever._”

“Never?”

“Never. And neither has anyone else that I know of.”

“Angeal never mentioned it?”

“Ange- You mean _Angeal_ laid eggs, too?”

“And Genesis. We all did. Angeal and I would just dispose of them, but Genesis...”

“Genesis...?”

“He would draw faces on them, read Loveless to them, and then dispose of them when he got bored.”

“Draw... faces...?”

“Sometimes he would dress them up, too. He had an entire box of clothes he made for them, and little wigs.” A nostalgic smile, eyes fixed firmly on the past. “He even had copies of our outfits for them; a Genesis, and Angeal, and a Sephiroth.” He frowned. “Somehow, his Sephiroth-egg always ended up smashed.”

“I... see...” Great. Now he had the mental image of Sephiroth, Angeal, and Genesis, each with a dozen smiley-faced, dressed-up eggs, having a tea party. An odd thought struck him and he almost dismissed it, but if Genesis had bothered dressing them up, maybe... “Did you ever... you know... try hatching them?”

“...Angeal did. He rented an incubator and we filled it with our eggs, but they never hatched; they just went bad. We found out later that it was because they're unfertilized. Angeal took it hard. First the wing, and now unviable eggs. I think he figured that he'd never have a family. That's when Genesis started drawing on them. In retrospect, I guess he wasn't as unaffected as he wanted to appear.”

“Oh. And you?”

“Me?” A snort. “You forget; I grew up in the labs. After the initial disappointment, all I felt was relief that no egg of mine would have to do the same.”

“I can see that,” Zack conceded. He couldn't say _his_ reaction would be any different. He sat down across from Sephiroth, looked him over once more. Even in the red light cast by the emergency system, he could tell that the man was quite pale, tension evident in the lines of every muscle, the way he grit his teeth. “Hey, are you sure you're all right? You really don't look so good.”

“Try holding in a dozen fist-sized eggs for over an hour and see how good _you_ look,” came the terse reply.

Zack winced at the thought, unable to suppress a slight squirm. He pulled out his phone. “I'll call maintenance and see how long we're going to be here.”

Sephiroth grunted in reply. He curled up tighter, tried to distance himself from the discomfort and pain. Really, he was lucky that this was the first time he'd been delayed so long. Optimism crumbled quickly, however, with the twinge of ever-growing pressure in his gut.

Zack snapped his phone shut, glaring at it before tucking it back into its place at his belt. He looked back to Sephiroth, frowning as he noticed the faint tremors that shook him every few moments. “Bad news,” he said grimly. “Maintenance said we're stuck here because some activists blew up some doohickey and we're going nowhere until it's fixed. They said it'll be about an hour. They said it might be less if they can find a replacement doodad, but not to get our hopes up.”

Sephiroth barely heard him over the pain in his gut, but managed to pick out the words 'about an hour'. He growled. Like hell he was waiting another hour to get some relief! Pushing aside his chagrin at the thought of doing this in an _elevator_, one hand reached for his belts. “Zack,” he said through gritted teeth. “Take out the video.”

Zack stared for a moment before his eyes widened in comprehension. Sephiroth was _not_ going to wait any longer. One long stride took him to the corner above which the elevator's security camera perched. One good stretch and he ripped it from the wall, wires sparking merrily. By the time he turned back to his companion, Sephiroth had already shed boots and pants, his only covering his long black coat as he crouched there, facing another corner; all the privacy he could scrape up. “Is there anything I can do to... er... help?”

Sephiroth handed him a fist-sized, speckled egg. “Hold this.”

Zack stared at the egg, its warmth soaking into his hands. In the red light it looked almost purple, with darker speckles all over it. “Holy crap, it's an egg!” What was he supposed to _do_ with it? Another egg quickly joined it, and the question quickly became “Where do I _put_ them?”

Four eggs in, the pressure eased enough for Sephiroth to look and see how Zack was taking this. A quick glance showed that the spiky-haired brunet had pulled a folding canvas bag from some pocket or other and put the eggs in it. He was wide-eyed but keeping it together, and... was he _petting_ them?

Satisfied that all was well, the silver-haired General turned back to his own task.

***

When the elevator dinged open in the lobby a half-hour after Sephiroth lay the last egg, it revealed a cool and composed Sephiroth, a still-stunned Zack, and a bag at their feet filled with fist-sized speckled eggs in the colors of the General's eyes.

END


End file.
